


Your True Face

by templefugate



Series: Comment_Fic [12]
Category: Batgirl (Comics), Batman (Comics), DCU
Genre: Barbara Gordon is Batgirl, Drabble, Father-Daughter Relationship, Gen, Halloween, Halloween Costumes, One Shot, POV Female Character, Prompt Fic, Prompt Fill, Reflection, Secret Identity, but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2019-02-22 19:51:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13174005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/templefugate/pseuds/templefugate
Summary: This wasn't the first time she'd had to wear a mask.





	Your True Face

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fill for the comment_fic prompt: "Any, Any, The Girl on the Fridge."

This wasn't the first time she'd had to wear a mask. The picture was old, the edges stained and color faded. She had to squint just to make out the image.

Barbara was only recognizable by the flash of bright red hair. She had a broom in one hand and a bucket of candy in the other. The witch mask was just a bit too big for her face, the plastic edges rubbing off her chin. Her mother had suggested using green face paint instead, but Babs had refused. The mask was scarier.

Jim had taken the picture. The memory was so clear that it could have taken place yesterday.

"Snarl and say cheese!" Looking back, she cannot be quite sure how he even managed to get the night -of all nights in Gotham-off. Unless one counted his uniform, he hadn't been in costume.

She'd smiled real big beneath the mask anyway, just in case someone could see through. Already, a few younger kids who had passed by their apartment had screamed when they saw her, running off without any candy to show for their excursion.

Barbara placed it back on the fridge, straightening the magnet holding it. Leaning down, she pulled up her boots and wiped wrinkles out of her grey pants.

The only other things adorning the fridge were an old report card (all A's) and a quickly scribbled note written a few hours beforehand by her father. Chicken scratch declared that he was going to be gone the whole night and that he had left twenty behind for pizza delivery. No meat was fine if she wanted it, but there better not be any garlic.

Pizza would have to wait. Her comm buzzed with news from Dick, Bruce, and Dinah. Intercepted between were a few police bulletins. Every once in a while, her father's voice filled her ears so loudly that it almost seemed as if they were in the same room.

Racing out the kitchen towards her room, she pulled her mask down. Unlike her the original she had scrapped together, this one given to her by Bruce molded as easily to her face as a glove.

Without giving her room so much as a second glance, she soared out the window and into the night.


End file.
